


On The House

by CallieB



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Family Video (Stranger Things), Harringrove Week of Love, Love Letters, M/M, Matchmaker Robin Buckley, Post-Season/Series 03, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Friendship, Robin Buckley is a Good Bro, Secret Admirer, Soft Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:47:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22701199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallieB/pseuds/CallieB
Summary: Billy sighs. “Someone’s been sending me shit,” he says. He sounds kind of… embarrassed.“I wouldn’t,” Steve says at once. He’s a little surprised Billy would even accuse him. “I wouldn’t send you something shitty, Billy—”“Not shitty,” Billy interrupts. “Like…” He makes a frustrated sound. “It’s like alove letter, or something.”“What?”
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 71
Kudos: 593
Collections: Harringrove Week of Love, harringrove for Australia





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

  * For [avalonlights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avalonlights/gifts).



> This was honestly so great to write, so thank you for the prompt [avalonlights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avalonlights/pseuds/avalonlights)! I hope you enjoy it, and thank you SO MUCH for thinking about Harringrove for Australia.
> 
> A huge, HUGE thank you has to go to [Buildyourwalls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buildyourwalls/pseuds/Buildyourwalls) for the beta - you were amazing, and I couldn't have got through it without you. 
> 
> Come and find me on [tumblr](https://13callieb.tumblr.com/) to rant about these beautiful boys!

“That’s two dollars and thirty cents for the rental, and six dollars for the late return,” Steve says. He kind of likes the way he sounds like he knows what he’s doing, even if it’s just at work. “Sorry, man, but rules are rules.”

The customer, a thin guy in his twenties with glasses too big for his face, scrunches his nose. “You’re really going to give me a hard time about a couple of hours?” he says. “Come on, it’s only a day late. It should be three dollars.”

“You have to get it in before ten,” Steve says, not for the first time. He looks pointedly at the clock on the wall; it’s twenty-five to one. “Sorry.” 

“Yeah, sure you are,” the man grouses, fumbling in his pocket for some cash. “Bet you’re just loving this, right? Hold onto your power, man, because—” He puts a couple of fives onto the counter. “How much was it total, again?”

Steve bites his lip, reaching for the calculator. It’s not that he _can’t_ work it out - he knows it’s not a difficult sum - but he gets stressed when he has to think about math in the store, with people around him. “Eight dollars thirty,” he says.

The man looks up at him. “What, you had to look that up?” He doesn’t sound unkind, exactly, just amused. “Brain gone to sleep?”

“Something like that,” Steve replies woodenly. Yeah, something like that - something like the same reason he’s here, working at Family Video, and not at college like everyone else he knows.

He types the amount into the register, lets it work out the correct change. “That’s one seventy,” he says, sliding the fives into the cash drawer. The man waits while he counts out the change. “Enjoy your movie.” He flashes his trademark Harrington grin. “Bring it back on time this time.”

The man doesn’t smile. “Sure, kid,” he mutters, and he slopes out, his movie tucked under his arm. He leaves the receipt Steve printed for him on the counter.

Steve puffs out a deep breath, turning to lean against the counter. It’s not like the guy was a real asshole; they get their fair share of dickheads at Family Video, so Steve should know. Maybe a little unfriendly, but no worse than that. But something about the exchange has left Steve feeling shitty, stupid, reminding him of that inadequate left-behind feeling that’s been plaguing him on and off since school let out last summer.

He’d been distracted by Scoops Ahoy, and Robin, and the Upside Down - and, of course, Dustin. But now that they’ve dealt with all the bullshit and life is going back to normal once more, Steve increasingly finds himself dwelling on that disappointed, yet ultimately unsurprised expression on his dad’s face when he told him he hadn’t applied for college. Finds himself thinking about Nancy and Jonathan, both off at Indiana State, and even Tommy H, who got into Purdue. 

He doesn’t know anyone who didn’t go to college.

Of course, as Robin is quick to point out, Steve doesn’t actually know all that many people. There are probably plenty of his old classmates who aren’t pursuing higher education right now. He’d just never imagined _not_ going to college, never pictured what his life might look like once he graduated school, and now it’s like everything has just ended with a huge full stop.

He could be stuck here forever, renting videos to assholes who act surprised because he uses a calculator instead of his head, and life would just keep ticking on. It scares the shit out of him.

“You okay?” 

Robin walks out of the backroom, holding a basket with the new tapes she’s been sorting. Steve runs a hand through his hair, feeling marginally less shitty just at the sight of her; Robin always helps. He’d never _tell_ her that, obviously, because mostly the way she helps is through being a little bit of a dick to him until he laughs himself out of it, but she does. She helps.

“Yeah,” he says. “Customer was kind of an ass, you know?”

She puts the basket on the counter. “Yeah, aren’t they all?” she says. “What did he say?”

“Nothing, really,” Steve says. He sighs, pushing his hand through his hair again. “I don’t know. You ever feel… I don’t know, like the world’s too big?”

One of the things he really likes about Robin is that even though she makes fun of him a lot - Christ, a _lot_ \- she never messes with him when she can tell he’s being serious. “Too big like how?” she asks and Steve can tell she doesn’t really get what he’s saying but she’s trying to understand.

He pulls himself up to sit on the edge of the counter. “Like… There’s so many choices, you know? Everyone says, like, finish high school, go to college, get a job, get married… I guess I always thought I’d do that, like my dad did. Like everyone else is doing. And then, I don’t know, it’s like, what if you don’t go to college? And even if you did, what would you do after? What job should you even get, and where should you live? And how the hell does anyone decide this shit? It’s all so goddamn _open_ and I just wish I knew what to do!”

“Okay,” Robin says, when he’s finished. She’s looking at him with a measured expression that makes him feel calmer because it means she’s not as lost as he is. “Okay, here’s what you should do: you should get your ass off the counter, because Keith will have an aneurism if a customer sees you that way, and you should order pizza with me tonight. Okay?”

Steve rolls his eyes and jumps down. “Okay,” he says.

“You know, the rest…” Robin trails off. “I don’t know what I’m doing after I graduate either, Steve. I know how you feel. But we’re young, right? We have time to figure this stuff out. And you know, in the meantime…” She laughs, waggles her fingers so he’ll know she’s switching back to joking. “We have this place, right?”

“Family Video,” Steve agrees pompously. “Losers’ fallback since 1978.”

“Oh yeah?” says a voice, as Robin is laughing, and it’s not hers. Steve wheels around.

He _knows_ that voice.

Standing in the doorway of the video store, his hair much shorter than the last time Steve remembers seeing him, is Billy fucking Hargrove.

Academically, Steve knows that Billy has been Around. He was in the hospital for almost six months after the Fourth of July, and although Steve never visited him - he tries not to hold the fight against Billy anymore, but he doesn’t have any reason to want to see him - he’s heard from the kids how he’s been doing. There were a few weeks when Max was worried he wouldn’t walk again, but Billy had fought through it. Apparently.

“Billy,” Steve says evenly. The last time he saw Billy, he was being put in an ambulance, dirty and bleeding and almost dead. Now, he walks with a cane, and he’s wearing a neck brace. Steve is feeling a mixture of sympathy and irritation; Billy always got under his skin at school, not to mention beating the shit out of him eighteen months ago, but how can you stay mad at someone so injured?

“Hello, princess,” Billy says, grinning like a shark.

Right. _That’s_ how.

Robin steps up to the counter, looking at Billy. “You’re Billy Hargrove, right?” she says. Like she doesn’t know. Robin knows everyone at school, says it’s the curse of unpopularity, but she’s never actually met Billy face to face.

“That’s me,” Billy says, still with that infuriating smile on his face. “Why 1978?”

“What?” Steve says.

Billy limps up to the counter. “You said it was the losers’ fallback since 1978,” he says. “Makes sense, since you work here, huh? But why 1978?”

There’s literally no way of answering that without sounding like a total, well, _loser_. “Fuck off, Billy,” Steve says lamely.

“Play nicely, kids,” Robin murmurs, and he nudges her.

Billy raises his eyebrows, and waits. At last, Steve mumbles: “That’s when Family Video was founded. Keith made me read the history pamphlet.”

As he predicted, Billy snorts with laughter. “Sounds like you’re making good use of your high school education right there, Harrington.” 

“Shut up,” Steve snaps back. That hit a little too close to home.

“Hey, I’m not judging,” Billy says, raising the hand that isn’t holding his cane. 

“You’re always judging,” Steve grumbles. “What are you even doing here, man?”

There’s a pause. Billy looks pointedly around at the shelves of videos. Then he looks back at Steve. “You wanna take a guess?”

Steve folds his arms. “If you’re here for a rental, go right ahead and pick something,” he says tightly.

“You always this welcoming towards your customers, princess?” Billy asks. Robin, the traitor, snorts.

“You’re not a customer yet,” Steve points out, perhaps a little childishly. “Shut up,” he adds to Robin, because she’s now full-on cackling beside him. Goddammit, she’s supposed to be on _his_ side.

Billy laughs gently. “Ah, come on, Harrington, don’t be like that,” he says. The look he’s giving Steve makes him feel kind of unnerved. “You can’t be mad at an invalid, right?” He gestures to himself, shaking the cane a little.

It’s so close to what Steve had been thinking when Billy came in that he flushes. “You want me to treat you differently because you got beat up?” he says challengingly.

“Beat up,” Billy repeats lightly. “Sure, you can call it _beat up_ , but I call it five broken ribs and a punctured lung—”

“Yeah, whatever,” Steve interrupts, because if he thinks too hard about it he’ll start feeling guilty for not liking Billy. “You want me to treat you differently because of five broken ribs and a goddamn punctured lung?”

“No,” Billy says, and he leans his free arm on the counter. “I don’t want you to treat me differently at all.” And he grins, wide and dangerous, and something in Steve’s chest flips over.

Next to him, Robin murmurs, “Jesus Christ.”

“Well, exactly, then,” Steve says, somewhat nonsensically. His face still feels hot. 

Billy laughs again. “You’re still pissed that I hit you, right?”

Steve says nothing, gritting his teeth. It feels kind of… stupid, still being upset about that - it was over a year ago, and so much has happened since then that it feels kind of cancelled out. Billy almost died, and Max and the kids have forgiven him. 

Steve’s not exactly an angel himself; hadn’t he given Jonathan the same treatment a year earlier? Jonathan has never held it against him. So why can’t he let this go?

“He gets to be pissed about that,” Robin says, in an uncharacteristic display of loyalty. Steve’s not sure he’s ever heard her stick up for him like that before; she’s usually too busy making fun of him. Then again, mostly they only hang around people Steve doesn’t need defending from.

“Yeah, I know,” Billy says. He’s still smiling, but there’s an odd edge to it.

Steve shifts, feeling uncomfortable. “I’m not pissed,” he says untruthfully.

“Liar,” Billy says, flashing another grin.

“I’m not,” Steve presses. “Not about the fight, just…” He sighs. “You’re just an ass, man.”

This time he’s surprised by Billy’s burst of laughter; he’d kind of thought he would be offended. The Billy Steve remembers, the one who came after him at the Byers’ place, would have been catapulted into almost maniacal rage at a comment like that. But this Billy, a year and a half older and perhaps sobered by his brush with death and the supernatural, seems to have mellowed.

He says, “Alright, Harrington, I get it,” and then he holds out his hand for Steve to shake. “I’m sorry for being an ass, and I’m sorry I kicked _your_ ass—”

“I wouldn’t say you kicked my ass,” Steve grumbles.

“Okay, I’m sorry I hit you,” Billy amends, a smile still playing on his lips. Robin, too, looks like she’s fighting amusement. “Come on, Harrington, shake on it and put it behind us.”

Steve hesitates, but only for a moment. He shakes Billy’s hand.

“So sweet,” Robin says, in her mocking voice. “Look at you two, kissing and making up.”

“Shut up,” Steve says without heat.

Billy lets go of his hand, and for a moment Steve has the odd thought that he wishes he was still holding it. He shakes his head, and shoves his hand deep into his pocket.

There’s a pause, and then Billy says: “So what would you recommend, Harrington?”

“Recommend?” Steve repeats, and then he adds crossly: “You know, if you’re going to put it behind us, or whatever, you could maybe use my actual name.”

“Okay,” Billy says easily. “What _movie_ would you recommend, _Steve_ , since you work in Family Video, losers’ fallback since 1978?”

Steve closes his eyes briefly. He’s all for moving past their history, but it looks like Billy’s going to turn into another Robin - an ass who makes fun of Steve all the freaking time. “Ask Robin,” he says. “She’s the movie person.”

“Steve hasn’t even seen _Star Wars_ ,” Robin confides to Billy.

“I’ve seen _Back to the Future_ ,” Steve points out, and Robin laughs.

“High,” she says. “And not on purpose. And we didn’t even watch the whole thing.”

Steve rolls his eyes. This is a familiar argument. “There were _Russians_ ,” he says. “I totally would have watched the whole thing!”

“Russians?” Billy asks.

Steve turns back to him. “Russians,” he confirms. Maybe he’ll actually have someone on his side for once. “We were being held by the Russians, and they gave us this weird shit—”

“I think it was meant to be like a truth serum, or something,” Robin interjects. “I can’t remember.”

“We were high as fuck,” Steve says. Billy’s eyes are dancing with amusement. “So Dustin - you know, Max’s friend? - he hid us in a movie theatre to avoid the Russians.”

“And you watched _Back to the Future_?” Billy asks, an incredulous note to his voice.

Robin says, “ _Some_ of _Back to the Future_. And Steve doesn’t even remember it. He was high as a kite.”

“So,” Steve says forcefully, “were you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but I rented the video later on. We have it here, and you still haven’t seen it.”

“Because,” Steve says, drawing on the only thing he actually _does_ remember about the movie, “the guy was trying to bang his _mom_.”

“No, he wasn’t,” Robin replies, not for the first time. “You have to watch it, Steve.”

Billy says: “You have it here, right?”

Robin comes out from behind the counter, heading towards the stacks. “Yeah,” her voice floats back to them. “Hang on.”

They hang on. Steve says, awkwardly: “Are you… Will you have to use that for a while?” He gestures towards the cane and neck brace.

“I guess so,” Billy says, shrugging. “They didn’t think I’d walk at all, so I guess I should be grateful.” He smiles, although this time the expression is more melancholy. “I’m not too good at being grateful.”

It sounds like a confession. Steve doesn’t really think Billy should be feeling grateful at all; he got possessed by an otherworldly monster through no fault of his own, forced to kill people to make it stronger, and finally nearly killed himself when he tried to fight back. Sure, in some ways he’s lucky to be alive, but in a whole lot of other ways he’s pretty damn _un_ lucky, in Steve’s opinion.

Before he can even begin to find a way of verbalising that, Robin reappears,holding a videotape in her hand. When she holds it up, Steve sees the neat printed label on the side of it reading _Back to the Future_. He probably stuck that label there himself; Robin always sends him off to do background jobs when there are customers, in case someone asks him for a recommendation.

“Here.” She extends the video tape to Billy. “You haven’t seen it, right?”

Billy half-turns towards her, his cane scraping on the ground. “Nope.”

“Maybe you can get Steve to watch it again,” Robin suggests. Steve glares at her; she winks at him. 

“Or,” he says, irritated, “you could watch it with him, since you’re so into it.”

Billy takes a tiny step back, and Robin rolls her eyes. “Shut up, dingus,” she says, and she pushes the tape into Billy’s hands.

Billy says: “How much?”

Robin walks back around the counter, presumably to check against the complicated colour-coded sheet they have taped underneath it, but Steve finds himself saying: “Nah, man, it’s cool. On the house.”

“Steve,” Robin says, at the same time as Billy is saying: “You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Steve says.

Billy’s eyes narrow. “Thought you weren’t going to treat me differently, Harrington” he says accusingly. 

“Thought _you_ were going to call me by my name, _Hargrove_ ,” Steve retorts. He sighs, softening at the expression on Billy’s face. It’s like he thinks Steve is making fun of him, somehow, and it’s a very un-Billy-like expression for him to be wearing. “It’s not about that,” he says. “Chalk it up to… to putting it behind us.”

“You’re so weird, _Steve_ ,” Billy mutters, shaking his head, but he’s smiling too. “Fine.” He tucks the tape into his pocket. “See you around, Robin.”

Then he limps out of Family Video without looking back. Steve watches him go, feeling… well, feeling weird. He’s not totally sure _why_ he let Billy walk out without paying - which means that he, Steve, will have to cover the rental. Maybe he felt a little guilty, because he and Robin are friends, _good_ friends, in spite of her mocking him literally every second of the day, and Billy in spite of his bravado had seemed a little lonely. Maybe it was the injuries, after all. Or maybe it’s just nice to feel like he has someone he can give something to, someone who wasn’t expecting it - i.e., not Dustin - but someone who he’s not enemies with anymore.

Whatever. He shakes his head. He’s not thinking about this anymore.

“Steve,” Robin says. He looks at her; there’s something funny in her voice.

“What?”

Her eyes sparkle with amusement. “You know you’ll have to pay for that.”

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s fine.”

Robin leans her arms on the counter. “So?”

For some reason, the way she’s looking at him is making him blush. “So what?”

“Why’d you give him the tape?” Robin asks, a little impatiently. Like he’s being dense.

Steve shrugs. “I don’t know, why not?”

“Because now _you_ have to pay for it?”

“It’s like four dollars,” he says. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Steve, do you _like_ him?” she asks delightedly.

He frowns at her. “What?”

“Do you _like_ Billy Hargrove?” she repeats. Steve thinks about it. He’s not sure how he feels about Billy Hargrove. Historically, he’s always disliked him, but after the conversation they’ve just had - and frankly, after the stark reminder of how much Billy’s been through - it’s like those feelings have drained away. He’s not sure what they’ve left behind.

“No.” He shrugs uncomfortably. “I don’t know. I just think he’s pretty brave, you know? Like, he faced all that shit, and he’s come out of it smiling, and he apologised, and that’s pretty brave, right?”

“Sure,” Robin drawls, resting her chin in her hands.

Steve goes on: “It was nice talking to him, I guess. It was nice putting all the high school bullshit behind us, and you know, when he’s not being an ass, he’s kind of funny. So I suppose that’s why I gave him the tape. I just wanted to do something nice for him.”

There’s a really weird look on Robin’s face, like she’s struggling with something she wants to say. But also like Steve’s words are surprising her, like she’d maybe been ready to make fun of him - as per usual - but had changed her mind.

All she says is: “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”


	2. two

“He’s not trying to bang his mom,” Billy says without preamble, his cane tapping across the floor at Family Video. Steve hits his head on the edge of the counter as he hastily stands up; he’d been sorting through the receipt drawer. Billy definitely notices, but fortunately doesn’t comment.

Steve says, rubbing his temple: “What?”

Billy holds up a video, shaking it a little as if Steve is being slow. “ _Back to the Future_?” he says. “I watched it.”

“Oh,” Steve says. There’s an odd little swoop in his stomach, and he can’t tell what it means. “Did you… like it?”

The tapping stops as Billy reaches the counter. Steve notices he’s not wearing his neck brace; he wonders if that’s permanent. If it means Billy’s getting better. He’s not seen Max recently to be able to ask.

“Yeah, it was good,” Billy says. “Must have been a mindfuck if you were high, though.”

Steve doesn’t remember it being a mindfuck. He just remembers bright colours, and the sound of Robin’s laughter in his ear. He says: “I got sick halfway through.”

Billy laughs, not unkindly. There’s a pause, and Steve’s gaze is drawn again to the place where the neck brace had been the last time Billy came in. There are bruises around Billy’s collarbone, old and yellowing, and for no reason that Steve can understand, he wants to touch them, wants to feel the warmth of Billy’s healing skin.

He shakes the odd thought away, just as Billy says a little hesitantly: “Hey, Harrington—”

“Steve,” Steve reminds him patiently.

“ _Steve_ ,” Billy says, rolling his eyes. “Did you… Did you _send_ \- I mean—” He coughs, and stops, eyebrows raised as though Steve ought to understand what he’s trying to say. When Steve doesn’t respond, he sighs, and tries again. “Did you send me something?”

Steve frowns. “Send you something?” he repeats, mystified. “Send you what?”

“Never mind,” Billy says, colouring. He shuffles his feet a little, holding out the tape again. “Do I need to do anything, to return this?”

“No,” Steve says. He takes the tape. “I can deal with it.”

This time, the pause is distinctly awkward. Robin is at school today, and Keith never, ever schedules Steve to work at the same time as him, so there’s no one to help him keep the conversation going. Overall he’s glad that there’s no reason to be mad with Billy anymore, but it’s left a hole that Steve’s not sure how to fill.

Billy coughs awkwardly. “Max said you won a fight.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, holding onto the conversational lifeline. “Yeah, has she… you know, filled you in? I guess it must have been kind of confusing, right?”

Billy’s laugh is definitely a little bitter. “You could say that,” he says, and Steve, for the first time, tries to imagine what it must have looked like from Billy’s perspective: coming to the Byers’ place that night to find Max hiding out with Steve and the kids, not knowing anything else that was happening, and then being taken completely by storm in the summer when the Mind Flayer arrived. It’s quite a lonely picture.

“What did Max tell you?” he asks.

There’s a hesitation. “Not a lot,” Billy admits at last. He looks unusually uncomfortable. “I haven’t really… asked.”

“Why not?” Steve says.

Billy shrugs. “She watched me die,” he says, and although it’s not quite true - Billy is, after all, standing here in Family Video, only a little the worse for wear six months after the fact - Steve gets it.

He says diffidently: “Well, you know, if you want to know anything… you can ask.” He laughs slightly self-consciously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m usually the last to know, but you can ask.”

“Okay,” Billy says, and there’s a small smile on his face. It’s not his normal, shit-eating smile; it’s something softer, and it makes his face look different.

“Hang on,” Steve says, because he’s suddenly aware that Billy has been standing up for nearly ten minutes now, and he’s leaning on his cane. He heads to the back room, where there are a couple of folding chairs leaning against the wall; when he comes back holding them, Billy full-on grins at him. “Come and sit down.”

He puts the chairs behind the counter, and Billy limps around to sit on one of them. Steve makes sure his own chair is facing the door, because he’s not really supposed to be sitting down on the clock. Still, Keith will never know.

“Okay,” Billy says, once they’re settled. He points at Steve. “Okay, _Steve_ , tell me the thing I don’t get. How the hell did _you_ get involved in this shit?”

Steve grins. “Two words,” he says. “Nancy Wheeler.”

Billy is still sitting next to him when Robin shows up for her shift after school. Steve starts in surprise when she walks in - he hadn’t realised so much time had passed. It’s been nearly three hours since Billy turned up. They’ve only had a couple of customers, so they’ve just been sitting behind the counter chatting the whole time.

Robin stops in her tracks when she sees Billy. “Hey, guys,” she says, a note of surprise in her voice.

“Hey,” Billy replies. Steve’s face heats up, although he’s not sure why. 

“Did you come for another movie, Billy?” Robin asks. 

Billy stands up. “Yeah, but Steve doesn’t have a fucking clue.”

She laughs, even as Steve lets out an indignant sound. “Yeah, he wouldn’t,” she says. “You want me to pick you something?”

“Go for it,” Billy says. Robin puts her bag on the counter and walks over to the place where last year’s releases are shelved. Billy gives Steve a look; Steve, in spite of himself, snorts.

When she comes back, she’s holding a new tape. She rattles it at Billy. “ _Witness_ ,” she says. “Have you seen it?”

He shakes his head. “Nope.”

“It’s good,” she assures him.

Billy takes it from her, walking around the counter. His limp isn’t quite so pronounced, maybe because he’s been sitting down for so long. “How much?” he asks.

Steve can’t help himself; he shifts restlessly. “Don’t worry about it,” he says.

Billy gives him a sharp look. “Come on,” he says flatly.

“Seriously,” Steve presses. He still can’t explain _why_ , but it feels important. “It’s not a big deal. Gotta be some perks to working here, right?”

Billy laughs. “Alright,” he says. “See you later.”

As he watches Billy go, Steve finds himself, for the first time ever, a little disappointed that Robin showed up. Normally he hates working by himself, looks forward to her appearance after school - but he was enjoying talking to Billy, and he’s sorry to end the conversation.

“How long was he here?” Robin asks. She’s watching him in a way he doesn’t quite like.

“A couple hours,” he says. Her eyebrows lift. “We just got talking,” he explains hurriedly.

She nods. “I can see that,” she says. “What did you talk about?”

Steve shrugs. Truthfully, he can’t remember everything they covered; it wasn’t a _serious_ chat, although they did talk about some serious things. It was just easy to talk to Billy, leaving him wondering what friends they could have been if Billy hadn’t entered Hawkins High with such a big-balls attitude.

“The Upside Down,” he says to Robin. “ _Back to the Future_ ,” he adds, just to wind her up.

“Thought you didn’t like him,” she says probingly.

He nudges her. “I never said that,” he says. “I like him. He’s a funny guy, you know?”

“Just funny?”

Steve shrugs again. “Yeah, I guess? He’s funny, he’s kind of cool to talk to, and he’s definitely not as much of a dick as I thought.”

Robin laughs. “Wow, dingus, what a ringing endorsement,” she says, stashing her bag underneath the counter. “Anything else?”

“What, you want me to sell Billy Hargrove to you?” Steve says challengingly. “You know him about as well as I do.”

“I didn’t just spend the last three hours talking to him,” she points out. “Come on, Steve, tell me what you think of him.”

He frowns at her. “I don’t know, Robin, I think he’s cool, I guess? He’s tough, and I suppose I thought that made him an asshole, but I think actually it makes him kind of… indestructible?” His uncertainty turns it into a question. “I mean, look at what he survived, right?”

When he looks back at Robin, she’s watching him with the same odd, calculating expression she’d had the last time Billy was in the store. “Right,” she says slowly.

She doesn’t mention Billy for the rest of Steve’s shift, but every so often he catches her looking at him sideways, eyes narrowed like she’s thinking about something. As for himself, he can’t quite explain how he’s feeling about the conversation with Billy; every time he thinks about it, he finds himself smiling, just because it flowed so easily, but at the same time that seems strange. It’s _Billy_. He’s spent so long disliking Billy that to find himself now _liking_ him is distinctly odd.

Billy comes back into the store six days later. It’s a Thursday, so Robin is, of course, at school, and Steve’s basically falling asleep on his feet after a day with absolutely no customers at all. He’s had the folding chairs stashed under the counter since Billy left the last time. It’s not that he’s _preparing_ for a return, exactly, but it’s nice to have a chair in quiet times anyway and if Billy does come back they’ll be there. Robin raised her eyebrows when she noticed he didn’t put them away, the day Billy first came in, but she didn’t comment.

When Billy does come in, however, Steve is deep in the shelves, putting away a stack of returns. He hears the bell ring, and shouts out: “Be right with you!”

“Take your time, Harrington,” Billy’s amused voice floats back, and Steve’s stomach swoops for no reason at all.

He ambles out of the shelves slowly, although his heart is thudding. “Billy.” 

Billy waves the old tape at him. “Hey,” he says.

“You okay?” Steve asks. He gestures towards the counter, and Billy follows him around. Steve pulls out the chairs. “Sit down.”

Billy sits, shaky but not leaning as heavily on his cane as Steve remembers. “I’m okay,” he says, but there’s something almost wary in his voice. When Steve sits opposite him, he says in a rush: “You didn’t send anything, right?”

“Huh?” Steve says, staring. “Send what?”

Billy sighs. “Someone’s been sending me shit,” he says. He sounds kind of… embarrassed.

“I wouldn’t,” Steve says at once. He’s a little surprised Billy would even accuse him. “I wouldn’t send you something shitty, Billy—”

“Not shitty,” Billy interrupts. “Like…” He makes a frustrated sound. “It’s like a _love letter_ , or something.”

For a moment, Steve thinks he’s misheard. He opens his mouth, and then closes it again. Billy looks somewhat tortured, which makes the moment funnier. At last, he says: “What?”

“Shut up,” Billy says, but Steve can tell he’s trying not to smile. “Seriously, it’s _weird_. Who the fuck is sending me love letters?”

“Wait,” Steve says. “How many have you had?”

“Two,” Billy says wretchedly.

Steve can’t help it. He bursts out laughing. After a moment, Billy chuckles reluctantly as well, although he reaches over to whack Steve’s shoulder. Steve says: “What did they _say_?”

At this, however, Billy looks oddly reticent. “It’s weird,” he mumbles. 

Steve frowns. “Wait,” he says. “You said… you asked me…” He stops, because it seems like a crazy thought, but it happened. It did happen. “Did you think _I_ wrote them?” Because Billy had asked him, hadn’t he? Twice now, he’s asked Steve if he sent anything.

“Only because of what they say,” Billy says defensively. “Not… I didn’t think…” He trails off, and Steve finds that he’s suddenly desperate to know what Billy did and didn’t think. “Some of what they said reminded me of you,” Billy says at last.

“Like what?” Steve says slowly.

Billy sighs. “I don’t know,” he says, looking away. “Just… stuff. About… about my injuries, you know, and it’s not like many people know how I got them, right?”

“Did they mention the Upside Down?” Steve asks, intrigued.

“No, not directly,” Billy says. “Just, like… they talked about me _going through_ a lot, you know?”

Steve considers this. “Well, you have,” he points out reasonably. Billy gives him a look, like he thinks Steve is mocking him, so he adds: “Seriously, man, you’ve only just got the neck brace off, right?”

“Yeah, but hardly anyone knows about that, so who the hell is writing these damn things?” Billy says, and now he just sounds frustrated. “If they like me as much as they _say_ they do—”

“Does it lay it on thick?” Steve asks, surprised to find a trace of annoyance laced with his amusement, although he can’t quite put his finger on why.

Billy runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “It just… the letters, they’re really…” When he finds the word, it comes out in a mortified rush. “ _Complimentary_.”

Steve concentrates hard on not sniggering at the look on Billy’s face. “And that’s… bad?”

“No,” Billy says exasperatedly. “Just… unusual.” There’s something in the way he says it that makes Steve look sharply over to him. What’s unusual? For someone to say something complimentary about Billy? Surely, with all the friends he has, all the girls he gets, the school he wrestled out of King Steve’s grasp, that can’t be true? And yet Steve knows, perhaps better than Billy himself, how meaningless those things are. How little they’re really worth.

“Are you going to show me, then?” he asks.

Billy gives him a sideways look. “I don’t have them with me.”

Steve laughs. “So you kept them, then.”

“Shut up,” Billy says.


	3. three

By the time June rolls around, Billy has had seven love letters, and although he won’t show them to Steve - he alternates between frustration and embarrassment when he talks about them, which fills Steve with amusement - they’ve discussed the contents thoroughly. Billy is adamant that he has no idea who’s sending them to him.

“But that can’t be true,” Steve complains to Robin. “He must have _some_ idea, right? How does someone like you that much and you don’t even know who they are?”

“Mm,” Robin says, sticking a label on one of the tapes in a pile in front of her. She’s shown a spectacular lack of interest in Billy’s secret admirer. “ _You_ seem pretty interested.”

Steve pulls himself up onto the counter. “I just don’t get it,” he says.

For some reason, Robin finds that funny. “You don’t get it,” she repeats. “You don’t get why someone’s sending Billy Hargrove love letters? Steve, all you do is talk about him!”

He nudges her with his foot. “No, not that,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I don’t get how he doesn’t know. You know he thought it might be _me_ , at first? Because not many people know all the shit he’s been through, you know.”

Robin’s head shoots up. “He thought it was you?”

“Yeah,” Steve says.

She bursts out laughing. “Amazing,” she says. “Amazing.”

“What?” he says, nonplussed by her mirth. But Robin is too busy cracking up to answer him for a minute or two. 

At last, she says: “Are you jealous?”

He blinks at her. “What?”

“Are you jealous?” Robin repeats, more slowly. She waits, while Steve’s mouth opens and closes. _Jealous?_ Jealous, like in a romantic way, as if Steve... as if Steve… He can’t even finish the thought. Steve’s not _jealous_ , Billy’s his _friend_. His _guy_ friend. Steve’s not into guys. Steve likes _girls_ , girls in swimsuits and tights, girls dancing at parties, girls—

“Jealous,” he croaks. And then: “Oh, shit.”

Robin pats him on the arm. “Don’t give yourself a headache, dingus,” she says, in a consoling sort of way.

“But—” Steve splutters.

“I made that noise too, if it helps,” Robin offers.

He stares at her. “What?”

She puts another label on a tape, far too placidly for Steve’s liking. “When I first realised,” she explains. “Tammy Thompson, you know.” 

Steve’s head is spinning. In what universe is Robin comparing Billy to _Tammy Thompson_? As if he’s a doorway for Steve, a way for him to figure out that… that what? That he _likes guys_? He’s never thought about a guy before, not like that, never even crossed his mind, and yet…

There was that confused moment in tenth grade, wasn’t there, when he’d been at a neighbouring school playing basketball, and he’d looked at the other school’s coach, a young dude just out of grad school, and something had made him feel weird and he’d ended up half-hard. He’d put it down to nerves, barely given it another thought, but… 

There was also that other time when he and Tommy went to Jessie Fields’ birthday party, and Tommy reacted badly to some dodgy weed Ricky Saunders had brought, and Steve spent three hours in the bathroom patting his back while he threw up, and then afterwards Tommy leaned his head on Steve’s shoulder and Steve rested his cheek on the top of Tommy’s head, and for a second it felt… not how it should. But he’d been drunk and high and he never thought about it again, not really. 

Jesus Christ. Steve rubs his temples, because other memories are rising up now, like a tidal wave, flooding through him. That time when they’d all gone to Indiana Beach to hit up the rides, and they’d seen those two guys holding hands, and Tommy had been a real dick about it but Steve hadn’t been able to stop looking. That time he felt weird when he saw a poster of Rick Springfield in Patty Gleeson’s bedroom - they’d had really good sex that day. 

And now. Sitting in Family Video, losers’ fallback since 1978, laughing with Billy Hargrove. Feeling weird because someone else sent him letters, someone else has recognised what Steve already knows: Billy is pretty awesome. And Steve likes him.

Robin is watching him, even if she’s pretending she isn’t, but Steve’s not sure he really wants to talk about it. It feels too big to talk about, but also… also _not_ big. Not that big of a deal, in the grand scheme of things. Steve has fought actual monsters. This is a lot more normal than that.

So he takes a few deep breaths, and changes the subject, and Robin goes with it. Maybe she can tell he’s not up for a discussion.

He has the next day off, and he spends it with Dustin. He’s long-past any residual embarrassment of having a friend so much younger than him; quite frankly, Dustin Henderson is a hell of a lot more mature than Tommy H ever was.

About halfway through an ice cream sundae - the mall is still being rebuilt in parts, but Scoops Ahoy, as infallible as ever, managed to pop up under the scaffolding - Steve asks casually, “How’s Max?”

“Fine,” Dustin says, giving him a sidelong look. Steve doesn’t normally express much interest in the rest of the party. He likes them and all, but they really are just kids. It’s only Dustin who has managed to elevate himself in Steve’s mind. “I think she’s over at Lucas’ today.”

“I—” Steve begins, and then stops. Dustin _is_ his friend, but there are some things they don’t talk about. “I’ve been hanging out with Billy a bit,” he says finally.

Dustin takes this way more in stride than he would have six months ago by saying, “Max says he’s not an asshole anymore.” 

“He’s not,” Steve says.

Dustin absorbs this. “Well,” he says at last, “I guess the Upside Down can make anyone grow up, right?” He grins at Steve. “Worked for you, huh?”

“Please,” Steve huffs, ruffling Dustin’s hair. “You didn’t even know me back then. I was _awesome_.”

“If by awesome you mean _asshole_ ,” Dustin counters. It’s a familiar, teasing argument. 

“You wish you could be as cool as me,” Steve says. 

Dustin laughs. “I’m happy being as cool as I am,” he says, and Steve ruffles his hair again, because he thinks Dustin is pretty much awesome the way he is too.

When Billy comes into Family Video the following day, Steve has had almost 48 hours to process the fact that he’s apparently jealous of Billy’s mystery letter-writer, and he thinks he’s feeling okay about it. So it’s a shock to see Billy in the flesh, leaning on his cane as he walks into the store with his latest video in hand, and remember that Billy hasn’t actually been part of any of the revelations Steve has been experiencing. He has no idea what Steve has been thinking about.

Jesus. It seems somewhat ridiculous now that he thinks about it, but he hadn’t actually really thought about Billy as a person, while he was thinking about liking him. It had all been about Steve’s feelings, Steve’s memories, Steve redefining what he thinks of himself as a person. Now that Billy’s actually here, the omission feels glaring.

“You alright?” Billy asks, his forehead crinkling as he looks at Steve. He has attractive eyes, Steve thinks, and there’s a little rush in his chest to say it to himself. He’s _allowed_ to think that Billy has attractive eyes, even if Billy never knows it - he’s allowed to _be attracted_ to Billy, and he doesn’t have to push it down - it’s an acceptable thing for Steve to feel.

Of course, Billy would almost certainly be horrified if he knew, but Steve is still too full of his epiphany for that to be too depressing. “Yeah,” he says. “Come and sit.”

Billy does, giving Steve time to wonder how _he_ feels about _Steve_. He can confidently say, now, that they’re friends - so that must be how Billy sees him. As a friend, a good friend, maybe even Billy’s _best_ friend - it’s not as though Billy spends much time with any of the assholes from school anymore.

Maybe he wouldn’t be horrified. Maybe he’d laugh it off, and they’d stay friends. But either option sounds pretty mortifying to Steve.

“You sure you’re okay? You look… weird,” Billy says, with customary bluntness.

“Y-yeah,” Steve says, but his voice wobbles awkwardly and he knows Billy’s not buying it. “Sorry. Weird day.”

Billy leans back in his chair. “Weird how?”

Well, Steve’s not about to explain, so he falls back on something else that’s true, even if it’s not his most pressing concern right now. “Just been thinking about college,” he says.

Billy tilts his head to one side. “You thinking about going?” he asks.

“No,” Steve says, and the familiar dread rushes up inside him just by speaking about it. “I don’t know what I want to do.” It feels like a deep confession.

“No plan?” Billy says. 

Steve sighs, tipping back his head. “There was a plan,” he says. “That’s the problem.” When Billy says nothing, just continues looking inquiringly at him, Steve goes on: “I was supposed to follow the plan. Graduate high school, go to college, get a job, get married, have a family… Just like my dad. And I fucked up, and now I don’t know where to go.” He looks at Billy. “You ever feel like that?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” Billy says slowly. He bites his lip, and then asks, voice thoughtful: “Do you want what your dad’s got?”

“What do you mean?”

Billy shrugs. “Just like your dad, you said. But do you even want what he’s got? Nice house, maybe—” Billy’s never officially been to Steve’s house, but Tommy H, apparently, pointed it out to him once “—but you told me before that you don’t know how happy your mom is, and he has to travel all the time for work, and he’s got a kid he never sees—”

“He sees me,” Steve says uncomfortably, and somewhat untruthfully.

“I’m just saying,” Billy says. “If you had a kid, would you want the kid to feel about you the way you feel about him?”

Steve bites his lip, hard. What started out as a distraction has turned painfully real. “No,” he mutters.

“Do you want what he has?” Billy asks again.

“No,” Steve confesses. “I don’t even know if I want kids. And I like it in Hawkins.”

“So maybe it’s okay that you’re not following his plan,” Billy says. He leans backwards, closing his eyes. “Christ knows I’m not following _my_ dad’s plan.”

Billy doesn’t speak about his dad much, except to mention that they don’t get along, but from the tight lines of his face and the way his hands flex in his lap when the subject comes up, Steve suspects there’s more to the story than that. He’s never pressed the issue, never asked questions, so he’s hesitant now as he says: “What’s your dad’s plan?”

Billy’s laugh is short and lacks real mirth. “Get a job, earn some money, get out of his house,” he lists, sounding oddly tired. “In all fairness, that was my plan, too. Before, you know, all this.” He shakes his cane.

“Not college?” Steve asks.

“No money for college,” Billy replies. “No interest either. I’m like you, princess, not a clue what I’m doing.” He only ever calls Steve _princess_ when he’s feeling shaky, Steve has learned. 

Steve leans forward. “Do you want what he has?”

Billy laughs at the turned tables, opening his eyes again. One hand slides into his pocket. “No,” he says. “I really, really don’t.”

“What _does_ he have?” Steve asks. His heart is beating too loudly. “That you don’t want.”

“Ah, Harrington, you don’t wanna know,” Billy says wearily. Steve can see the hand in his pocket curling into a fist, stretching the denim of his jeans.

He says slowly, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I’m asking.”

“A nasty temper,” Billy says, so promptly that Steve has to wonder if there was a part of him that was hoping Steve would push the issue. “Got him canned from his job in Cali, and sent my mom running for the hills.” He turns to Steve. “I’m surprised your little friend El didn’t tell you. She went rummaging through my head that day, that’s how she brought me back.” 

Steve doesn’t have to ask him what he means. “She wouldn’t tell us anything about that,” he says. “I didn’t ask, anyway.”

“Ah,” Billy says. “Well, he’s an asshole.” He laughs, the sound a little bitter. “I guess I already fucked that one up.”

“You’re not an asshole,” Steve says. “An ass, maybe.”

This time, when Billy laughs, it sounds nicer, more natural. “Takes one to know one, Stevie,” he says carelessly. He draws his hand out of his pocket; he’s holding something, clenched tightly in his fist.

“What’s that?” Steve asks.

To his surprise, Billy _blushes_. “You’ll laugh,” he mumbles.

“Shut up, we’re past that,” Steve says. “What is it?”

Billy holds it out to him. It’s an envelope, creased and worn, as though it’s been in Billy’s pocket for a long time; on the front, Steve can see Billy’s name printed in careful script. “The first letter,” Billy says. He sighs, and Steve’s instinct is to smile at the thought of Billy carrying the thing around with him, but he controls his expression.

“Why do you have it?” he asks.

“It’s stupid,” Billy says. Steve waits, and Billy goes on. “It’s just… I don’t know, it says things about me, and I know that’s not me, but I’d like it to be me, you know? And sometimes when I’m pissed off, or whatever, I like being able to see that at least someone thinks I’m… well.” He looks away, cheeks pink. 

Steve reaches out for the letter. “Can I see?” he asks, and as he says it his hand brushes Billy’s. It’s the first time they’ve ever touched, if you don’t count the fight, and basketball - and Steve doesn’t count any of that bullshit - and it sends a jolt of feeling straight into his chest. He glances up at Billy; surely he felt that too, felt the leap of electricity between them?

Slowly, Billy releases his grip on the letter, and Steve takes it. He’s reluctant to draw away, to stop touching Billy’s hand, but he does it anyway, unfolding the envelope and sliding out the single sheet of paper inside.

 _Billy,_ the letter begins. Steve clears his throat, and reads aloud. “Billy,” he says.

“Oh, God, _don’t_ ,” Billy says, sounding pained.

Steve ignores this. “Billy,” he says again, giving Billy a stern look. “I think you’re really brave. You’ve faced so much shit, and you’ve come out of it smiling.” He stops, heart thumping. There’s something… something almost _familiar_ , about the words, but he can’t place it. He carries on reading: “When you’re not being an ass, you’re kind of funny - okay, I can see why you thought I wrote this,” he adds, and Billy snorts. Then: “I want to do nice things for you.”

That’s it. It’s not a long letter, but the words hang in the air, and Steve can tell they’re meaningful to Billy. He swallows. “Why… why did you say that’s not you?”

“Because it’s not,” Billy says, and the fact that he absolutely, definitively believes that is somewhat heartbreaking.

Steve’s hand, completely independent of any kind of rational thought, moves, closing the short distance between them, and reaches to encircle Billy’s.

Billy’s head jerks up. He looks alarmed, and a little wary, his hand stiff in Steve’s grasp, but he doesn’t pull away.

“That’s totally you,” Steve says, to cover for the awkwardness of what his hand is doing without his permission. “You _are_ brave. And funny,” he adds, and he’s rewarded by the ghost of a smile. “And you have been through shit.”

Slowly, Billy’s hand seems to soften in Steve’s. “Thanks,” he says quietly.

“Um,” Steve says, and it’s not because Billy is beginning to hold his hand back. It’s because he can feel something else happening, another part of his body acting without permission, and he’s afraid Billy’s going to notice. He shuffles a little in his chair.

Billy looks at him. “What?”

Steve could do any number of things to distract himself - and Billy - from the growing problem. He could stand up, walk away, cross his legs, change the subject—

He doesn’t do any of those things.

Instead, he leans forward, bringing his face up to Billy’s, and presses a soft, slow kiss to Billy’s mouth.

His brain takes a few seconds to catch up with what his mouth is doing, and those few seconds are warm and glorious; it’s as though every confused feeling Steve’s had in the last two days has brought him to this point, kissing Billy right here in Family Video. For the first time in months, he feels like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be, doing exactly what he’s meant to be doing, and it settles that wary, frightened place deep inside him, the place that can’t stop thinking about the future.

Then, of course, he realises. 

He pulls back, ready to drown in mortification.

“Don’t,” Billy says softly. “Don’t stop.”

Steve feels a smile beginning to build, and he moves forward again. The letter flutters to the ground as he brings his free hand up to slide around the back of Billy’s neck, drawing him in closer as their lips meet. He feels like he’s on fire, a molten point of contact just at the place where they’re kissing, and with half a gasp he presses up against Billy. He can feel Billy’s hands winding around him, the chairs scraping on the floor as they pull closer together, and there’s a clatter as Billy’s cane falls down.

It’s such a haze of heat and desire that Steve is barely aware of what he’s doing. Every thought has been driven out of his head. Billy’s mouth feels very soft under his.

When he finally draws away, he has no idea how long they’ve been kissing. Billy’s face is flushed, and his hair is tangled around Steve’s fingers. They’re both breathing heavily.

“That—” Billy says, and then stops. He grins.

Steve grins right back. “Yeah,” he says, with feeling. Slowly, he removes his hand from Billy’s hair, smoothing it down as he goes. His other hand is still holding Billy’s tight. He has no intention of letting go.

For a few minutes they both sit in silence. Steve’s heart is pounding, but he’s feeling oddly relaxed; somehow, he managed to muddle his way to a right answer. There’s nothing to worry about, how could there be? Not when he’s here with Billy Hargrove holding his hand. Every so often he glances over, catching Billy’s eye, and then he looks down with a smile. 

When the little bell above the door rings, they both start, and Steve releases Billy’s hand before he comprehends what he’s done. Luckily, since he’s not supposed to be sitting down, it’s not a customer. It’s Robin, walking in to start her shift.

“Hey, guys,” she says distractedly, pulling her bag over her head. Steve is surprised that she’s not commenting on how close he and Billy are sitting, but then again, Billy is often in the store when she arrives.

As far as Robin is concerned, this is just an ordinary day. What an odd thought.

Steve stands up, and a piece of paper on the floor flutters at the movement; it’s the letter, and Steve bends to pick it up. He opens it up again almost reflexively. For a moment, there’s a brief burst of jealousy; someone else sent this, and Billy’s been keeping it in his pocket for weeks, taking it out, reading it to comfort himself whenever he’s feeling vulnerable. But it’s not the person Billy’s interested in, just the words, and it’s Steve he just kissed. 

_I want to do nice things for you_. Strange, that the letter should echo Steve’s own feelings so accurately - hadn’t he said something similar, when Robin asked him why he’d given Billy the tape—

The letter tumbles from his hand, and Steve gasps.

“Steve?” Billy stands up immediately.

“Oh my God,” Steve whispers, and now Robin is looking at him too. “Oh my _God_. _Robin_.”

She takes a step forward, looking between Steve and Billy - Billy’s hand is on Steve’s elbow - and then stops. And yes, there’s a distinct expression of _guilt_ on her face.

“Steve,” she says carefully.

Steve shakes his head. “You? You wrote them?”

“What?” Billy says, startled.

“Okay,” Robin says, walking forward quickly. “Okay, just let me explain, alright?”

There’s a beat. Billy and Steve stare at her. “What’s going on?” Billy asks at last. “Are you talking about my… my letters?”

“Robin wrote them,” Steve says. His heart is thudding, and it still seems absolutely ridiculous, but he knows it’s true. “ _Robin_ wrote them.”

Billy turns wild eyes on Robin, and Steve realises that he won’t understand it the way Steve does; he doesn’t know Robin only likes girls, doesn’t know where she got the words from, and there’s panic in his expression. He’s obviously wondering how he’s going to turn her down nicely.

Robin has obviously come to the same conclusion. She rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on,” she says. “You’re not my type, Hargrove.” When he simply stares at her, she laughs, and turns to Steve. “Listen, Steve, I wasn’t going to send them, okay? I just wrote it down so you could see what you sound like. So maybe you’d wake up a bit, you know? And then… I don’t know, I thought if someone was saying shit like that about me, I’d want to know.”

“So you sent them.” He should be pissed. But oddly, he’s smiling, just a little.

She shrugs. “He knew it was you, anyway.” 

“Okay, hold up,” Billy says, shaking his head. “I’m confused.”

“The letters,” Robin says at once. “I wrote them, but everything I wrote was something Steve said to me, about you.”

When Billy turns to Steve, Steve blushes. But there’s something in Billy’s eyes, something incredulous, awed, pleased, all at the same time, and it makes his chest swell. Billy didn’t believe the letters. He wanted to, but he couldn’t quite believe it about himself. But now Steve - Steve gets to keep telling him all the things he likes about him until he _does_ believe it, and they don’t need letters, they don’t need Robin sliding in to pull them together. 

They’re already there.

“You said this stuff about me,” Billy says, his voice shaking, but _happy_. “They’re your words.”

Steve suddenly laughs. “I was jealous,” he admits. “I was jealous of my own goddamn words.”

And then Billy is in his arms, and his mouth is hot on Steve’s, and Steve’s fingers dig into his hips and every thought evaporates as they kiss.

It’s quick, because Robin is still standing there, but when Billy draws away, Steve is grinning like an absolute idiot.

“Wow,” Robin says. “Jesus. Are you going to be like this all the time?”

“You sent the letters,” Steve points out. His hand finds Billy’s, and he holds tight. “You made your bed.”

She shakes her head at him. “What a way to have a first kiss,” she says, laughter in her voice.

And Steve, delighted that at last he knows something she does not, replies: “Get with the times, Robin. That wasn’t our first kiss.”

The only thing more pleasant than the shock on her face is the feel of Billy’s hand, warm in his, heartbeats thrumming together.


End file.
